


my broken pieces (you pick them up)

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:26:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a sick twist of fate, Tyler wasn’t even there when the accident happened. He was giving a puff piece interview that he had begged to get out of more than once. He loved the press, really, loved getting any positive press that wasn’t revolving around being the Bad Boy from Boston (™) or the eternally youthful fuck-up, but he had just gotten cleared to be back on the ice. He’d fought tooth and nail to get signed off to get on the ice and … yeah. It wasn’t at all where he wanted to be. </p><p>And then the shoe dropped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciFern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciFern/gifts), [freetodream5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetodream5/gifts), [optimusfine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfine/gifts), [sly_fck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/gifts).



In a sick twist of fate, Tyler wasn’t even there when the accident happened. He was giving a puff piece interview that he had begged to get out of more than once. He loved the press, really, loved getting any positive press that wasn’t revolving around being the Bad Boy from Boston (™) or the eternally youthful fuck-up, but he had just gotten cleared to be back on the ice. He’d fought tooth and nail to get signed off to get on the ice and … yeah. It wasn’t at all where he wanted to be. 

Plus, he just felt off. Call it intuition or just dumb guessing but he hadn’t liked the feel of leaving the ice that morning. The guys had teased him, calling him a superstitious fuck, which he usually was pretty against. 

Then he saw Sharpy in the hallway as he walked out of the interview, and his face was ashen and he looked at Tyler with such guilt. 

“Where the fuck is he?” 

His stomach ached, his heart was beating too fast in his chest and he swore to fuck if this was some kind of game he was going to shave Sharpy’s head and die his skin pink for eternity but he knew better than that. Sharpy wouldn’t do that hardcore. He was all for the lame and funny, this didn’t feel like either. 

“Jamie got hit,” Sharpy said like he hadn’t even heard Tyler’s question. 

“WHERE IS HE?” Tyler shouted it so loud that it reverberated down the hallway. 

Sharpy blinked. “They took him to the Medical Center.” 

Tyler made a sharp left turn and broke out into a sprint. He made it about two-thirds of the way to the parking lot before he realized he’d left his keys in his stupid locker and he was going to have to go all the way back. 

But Sharpy was behind him, Tyler’s bag swung over his shoulder and his own keys in hand. He handed Tyler his bag and shook his head. 

“You aren’t driving,” Sharpy said, and there were few times that Tyler was reminded that Sharpy was someone’s dad but in that moment it was freaking clear. His voice left no room for talking and Tyler could care less how he got there. 

They got into Sharpy’s car and Tyler buckled up when prompted but mostly he stared down at his phone. He was sending text after text to Jordie, who’d gone with. Jordie was giving him basically nothing, though, as apparently he had little to give. 

“ _Puck to helmet. Hard. Fell against boards. He blacked out, woke up in the Paramedic truck but he got taken back and I haven’t seen him._ ” 

The frustrating lack of details had him cursing up a blue streak, asking Sharpy to gun it and promising to pay for any tickets he got. Sharpy kept giving him a look, soft and sad and like he was familiar with this feeling. He felt like his entire body was numb and his brain was taking up all the slack for feeling pain. 

When they got to the hospital Sharpy was smart enough to drop him off at the front door and going to find parking. He was on auto pilot, just get to Jamie, that was all he needed to do and he would be fine. He would be great.

Except he found Jordie in the hallway, a phone against his head and another in his hand. He looked at Tyler and sagged. 

“Mom, Tyler’s here, I’ll call you back. I’ll email your flight details to you in less than five minutes, just get to the airport and it’ll be fine.” 

Jordie dropped the phone from his ear and looked directly at Tyler for a split second before giving him a huge freaking hug. Not that he wasn’t thankful for it but he did know that that couldn’t be a good sign. 

“They’ve given you nothing?” he asked into Jordie’s shoulder. 

Jordie pulled back a little, not even doing the requisite pat. “No, fucking nothing. Demers just went to get me something to eat. I think he’s afraid if I get hangry I might choke someone and I swear to you I’m already freaking there.” 

Tyler put both hands in his hair and missed when it was longer so he could at least pull on it or something. Instead, he stared forward and thought about what he could do. 

Which felt like jack freaking all, it turned out. He couldn’t really do anything. Jordie gave him the phone that had been against his ear and told him to call his mom back and tell her the flight info, as she wasn’t dealing any better than the two of them. 

He talked with her as she threw clothes in a bag and cried. He even figured out how to get a car to her house because there was no way she was driving. She kept asking if the doctor was out yet and he kept having to tell her no. He was going to kill the doctor if for nothing else than making Mama Benn cry, seriously. 

He didn’t know exactly how long had passed but she got to the airport and had to shut off her phone BEFORE the doctor came out with one of the trainers. 

Tyler jumped to his feet, Jordie stopped in his pacing, Sharpy and Demers just sat next to each other with a weird look of shared terror. 

“Which one of you is the other Mr. Benn?” the doctor, a short woman, asked. 

Jordie walked forward a half an inch. “I’m his brother.” 

“Can you come with me? I’m sorry, but this is for the family.” 

Jordie grabbed Tyler by the shoulder and pulled him forward. “This is his partner.” 

The words felt weird to hear out loud. They had defined themselves, they were together. Fuck, they shared a house, but they weren’t out yet. Having the words said to someone that wasn’t his parents or his teammates felt like his skin was a little too tight. Either way, he was thankful that Jordie was willing to do it. 

“Are you two married?” she asked, tentatively. 

“They are,” Jordie lied through gritted teeth. “He is our family.” 

The doctor looked back at the trainer who just nodded (thank fuck for Sol, he owed him like… a car). They started walking down a hallway and stopped outside a door. 

“Your brother and … husband was hit pretty hard in the front, but that actually isn’t what we are as worried about as much. With the falling and backward motion, he cracked his head forward hard while also pulling neck muscles. He isn’t showing signs of concussion, yet, but we will be keeping him monitored. He also is in a neck brace for at least the next twelve hours.” 

Tyler was nodding like he had any idea what the hell she was talking about. Sol stood beside her and looked at him with a grimace. 

“What does this _mean_?” Jordie asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Lower your voice, Jordie,” Sol said calmly. “We’re in a hospital.” 

Jordie frowned but said it again as slow and calm as possible. It was actually pretty impressive to Tyler. “What. Does. This. Mean. For. Jamie?” 

“Well the tests we’ve run have shown no cracks or muscle tears, which is good,” the doctor offered. “And the initial concussion tests were negative which is promising but they can show up…” 

“… We know.” Tyler and Jordie said simultaneously. As if either of them wasn't painfully aware of what concussions could do and how long they could delay.

The doctor folded her arms over each other. For her height, she was surprisingly intimidating. For any height really. “He blacked out. That is never good. His neck is going to be painful for weeks, the need for physical therapy is a necessity and he isn’t going to be able to deal with a lot of movement for at least a week.” 

Jordie turned his attention to Sol. “How long?” 

“Six to eight weeks.” 

_Fuck_. FUCK. They still had two weeks left of preseason but being without their captain for possibly the first 6 weeks? Was not good. He put his hands on his face and scrubbed, belatedly realizing he was still wearing makeup from the interview earlier. Gross. 

“Can we see him?” he asked. 

The doctor pursed her lips and pointed at the door they stood beside. “Yes. But keep the visit brief and simple. No loud noises. Not too much excitement. He needs to rest and he’s also slightly doped up.” 

Jordie let out a weird half laugh. “And if I record it then I’m the jackass. No fair.” 

Tyler knocked against him. “Go, Jordie. GO.” 

Jordie seemed like he wanted to say more, but when he caught sight of the look on Tyler’s face he was kind enough to shut his trap and moved to the door. He opened it but let Tyler in first. 

The room had the lights low, the window closed and the nerve-wracking beeping that sent Tyler’s heartbeat into double time. The curtain was opened enough that he could see Jamie with his mostly closed head in a really uncomfortable looking brace. 

Tyler felt like he might actually vomit, enough so that he looked over to the table in front of Jamie to see if the familiar pink bean was in front of him just in case. He took a step forward and then he felt the hand behind him pushing him instead. 

His shoe made a rather loud squeak and he flinched but Jamie’s eyes opened and he turned _slightly_ to get a better look at them. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks, so chill out,” Jamie said, though it was barely above a whisper and his teeth were gritted. “They are totally overreacting.” 

Tyler felt his hands clench at his side but he tried to relax it. “It’s good to know you got that Ph.D. while I wasn’t looking.” 

Jamie looked up at the ceiling and exhaled. “I just hit my head weird. It’s more of a pride hit, Ty.” 

“I told you I shouldn’t have gone to that fucking interview,” Tyler took the last few steps until he was right next to him. He took his hand and mostly fell into the chair close enough to him.

“How the hell does the interview have anything to do with my injury?”

Tyler smiled as he gave a kiss to Jamie’s hand. “I could have freaking taken that wall for you. Shown that wall who’s boss.” 

“I hate you, so much.” 

“You guys are nauseating,” Jordie gagged behind them. “You scared the crap out of us, Chubbs.” 

Jamie smiled, even though he looked like he wanted to grimace the whole time. “Sorry bro, I’ll try harder not to next time.” 

“Mom’s on her way,” Jordie said, amending. “Sorry.” 

“Y’all suck,” Jamie said, coughing. “Fuck. Ow.” 

A slight rap on the door and a nurse walked in. “Sorry to intrude. I’m here to give Mr. Benn some pain medication.” 

“You are my favorite,” Jamie said and Tyler’s head shot up like a meerkat. 

“You say that to your HUSBAND?” Jordie laughed. 

“Sorry Ty, just pain… wait.. what the hell?” 

The nurse, who was scanning his bracelet and the vial in her hand, paused and looked at the three of them. “Everything okay?” 

“Oh nothing,” Jordie gave his best smile. “Their marriage is young, very very young.” 

She shook her head and tapped at the needle before putting it into the IV line and pushing slowly. 

“I taste pennies…” 

“Saline to clean out the line,” the nurse smiled. “Now comes the painkiller.” She gave it to him and then looked at the other two men. “You probably have about ten minutes before the doctor brings down the hammer. I’ll keep her out as long as possible.” 

“Okay, you can be his favorite,” Tyler beamed at her. 

She winked at Tyler and shrugged. “Just bring us home the damn cup, catch me?” 

They were all a little too dumbstruck to actually say anything before the door closed. 

“Husband?” Jamie asked, after a minute of staring at the door. 

“They only wanted family back here,” Jordie said like it was that easy. “Sol vouched. It was either that or you were stuck with just my ugly mug and I was stuck with puppy-eyed Tyler for the next eternity.” 

Jamie blinked turning slightly to Tyler, his eyes glazing in a way that indicated he was getting the fresh kick of painkiller. “Husband?” 

Tyler shrugged. “It’s not THAT big of a deal. We live together, dude. And it wasn’t legally binding. It was Sol and the doctor lady. Chill.” ‘

* 

If only it was that easy, really. 

A half hour later, when they walked into the waiting room, they found Sharpy and Demers looking pensively at their phones and muttering between themselves. 

“This looks foreboding,” Jordie teased, tension having eased noticeably with the return of the doctor telling them they were allowed back in the morning. That they were taking off the neck brace to do some checks, and a quick check had shown no initial signs of a concussion. Not like they were out of the woods but it was a lot of relief. 

“Yeah, what the hell are you guys plotting?” Tyler asked. 

Jason looked up first, lower lip between his teeth. “Uh.” 

“Really guys? Not the time. I’m exhausted and I got to pick my mom up at the…” 

“Did you guys tell someone you and Jamie were married?” Patrick asked, voice a little anxious. 

Tyler’s face froze into a smile, brain processing the question in the way it would had HE been the one to take the painkillers, slow and steady before the final ding of the light bulb. “Yeah… we told the doctor to get me back there. You guys were here?” 

“Did you tell anyone ELSE?” 

“No, why would w— holy fuck the nurse,” Jordie stopped and looked at Tyler. “That nurse.” 

“Wait, it’s been a half an hour, it’s not like we’re Sid and Geno level here. where are you seeing this?” Tyler said, brain going, as he’d been trained, into spin control. 

Patrick stood up and walked towards them, handing Tyler his phone which was opened to Perez Hilton. He fucking hated Perez Hilton with all his heart and it only increased with the old picture of he and Jamie covered in mother fucking sparkles and shit with the caption, “The FABULOUS Stars?!” 

Beneath it was a tweet from “@HandsOffHannah : OMG, JAMIE AND TYLER ARE MARRIED? NEWLYWEDS! THE CUTEST! #calledit #1491” 

His stomach lurched. The time code was from twenty minutes ago. It had to be the nurse. It HAD to be the nurse. But he liked the nurse, she seemed genuinely nice. He almost dropped the phone as he was giving it back to Patrick. He turned around and aiming for the doors. He had a hand on his shoulder in one second. 

He turned to find Jordie, not looking like he was going to stop him but rather pulling him back so he could get ahead of him. “I got this, bro.” 

“You kidding, man? I don’t need fucking protection,” Tyler snapped, loudly. 

“Yeah, but I’m not Puck Daddy bait, they could fucking care less about me,” Jordie pointed at him. “Catch me.” 

He let Jordie go ahead but he was walking just a few steps behind him. He could hear Jason and Patrick tracking after him and somehow he got the image of the four of them running down a hallway in the middle of the freaking hospital. It was ridiculous, some messed up form of a bad movie. 

They got halfway to the nurses station when they saw the nurse in question, staring at her phone and gaping. She looked up, saw them and burst into tears. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I **wouldn’t** ,” she repeated. 

Tyler wasn’t really in the mood to believe her. He wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. But he also had two baby sisters and the big brother in him was pretty much devastated at the look of sheer horror on her face, sobbing at her job. 

“Tell me your twitter handle,” Jordie said, his teeth set. 

“It’s GinnyGinGinX,” she held her phone up and they caught sight of her friends' list. Which, apparently, was blowing up with the article. “I didn’t tell _anyone_.” 

Jordie sagged a bit. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Don’t let this get to Jamie, okay? He’s out of it. I don’t think he has his cell phone. Just… don’t let it get to him.” 

The nurse nodded. “I swear, I won’t. I’m on 12 hours. I’ll tell my replacement he’s on tech ban. I won’t even tell her why. I promise.” 

From his pocket, Tyler heard his phone start to buzz. He didn’t really have to check it to know who it was. He picked it up with the resignation of a man already strapped to the guillotine. 

“Look, I’m not going--” 

“Funny story,” John, his agent, started in before he could keep going. “I just got a phone call from my niece. She was shrieking. You know how much I love my family. But shrieking. I thought my niece was dying. But apparently… no. Apparently. Tyler Seguin is married. To whom, you ask? Jamie fucking Benn.” 

Tyler turned and ducked his head. “Okay, this is not what it seems.” 

John scoffed. “Please, please, PLEASE, tell me how this isn’t what it seems like. Cause I’m about to be slammed with questions and I just want to know who I’m killing. I really hope it isn’t you. I don’t hate you, kid. I might even say like if it’s a good day. Today is not a good day, asshole.” 

“Jamie got hit at practice. He’s in the hospital. We don’t know who heard it, but Jordie claimed me as family so I could get into the room. It’s just a tweet. It’s just a tweet. There is nothing substantiating it, right? So it’s their word against ours.” 

“The photo doesn’t help,” John snapped. “Did you really have to put your head on his hand like you were at a fucking vigil?” 

Tyler’s mouth went dry and he turned around to look at the four people near him. “Picture?” 

The nurse’s face went pink as she handed him the phone in her hand. It was a text message from someone labeled “BAEBAE” with those horrible swirling heart emojis and there, in technicolor horror, was a grainy far away photo of him through the door to the room with his head on Jamie’s hand. The friend had sent it to the nurse with simple a ’Your hospital???’ He hadn’t even thought the door was OPENED for more than a minute or two. 

“Fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted, handing the phone back and rubbing at his forehead. This day just kept getting better and better. He tried his best to think of ways around this. “Okay, so I leaned my head down. We’re good friends…” 

“Who live together and work together, who CALLED THE OTHER HUSBAND and had that image attached to it?” Another scoff. “Tyler. You are being an idiot. How the hell am I supposed to spin this?” 

“NO MARRIAGE LICENSE,” he called out, pretty loud and Sharpy’s eyes went wide as he shushed him. “No marriage license. Boom. See. Easy.” 

John groaned. “Well, that’s a start. But let me handle this before you even start. I can’t even. I don’t want to be responsible for this if it gets spun wrong. You don’t say a fucking word to anyone. I mean it Seguin. Not even your mother on this one.” 

_Well that was just not happening_ , he kept to himself. His mom knew more about him than anyone else and he also knew he wasn’t dumb enough to let his mom hear about marriage rumors from someone other than him. 

“This is a small market team, damn it,” Tyler said, nonsensically. “This shit doesn’t happen in Dallas.” 

“Apparently it does.” 

“God damn it.” 

He heard a beep and looked at his phone, the image of his mom popping up and his stomach dropping. He was going to kill Candace. It had to be her. It had to be her and he was going to kill her. He loved her with all his heart but he was going to murder her and find one of the clean up people from Boston to hide the body. 

“I’ll call you back,” Tyler said and clicked the transfer call button before John could get another word in edgewise. “Hi, mom.” 

“IS JAMIE OKAY?” 

He pulled the phone away from his ear and watched as Jordie’s ears perked up. 

“Yes, ma, he just got hit hard to the boards,” Tyler said, returning the phone to his ear. “He should be fine. He should be okay.” 

“Good,” she exhaled slowly. “I heard about it and my heart stopped.” 

“They’re keeping him overnight for testing, he’ll probably be out six weeks…” 

She interrupted him. “You’re married? MARRIED? Tyler Paul Seguin, I swear to god that better be a typo because I’ve been planning your stupid wedding since you met that damn boy and you are NOT taking it away from me.” 

“Not married, we just used it to… wait… what?” 

“Well, it isn’t like you two would be able to do anything. You have to have a stylist pick out your freaking clothes. And Jamie is a dear but he isn’t really meant for it either. Heather and I have had some talks, nothing concrete… just you know the basics.” 

Tyler felt his mouth drop open and he opened and closed it like a fish. What the ever loving fuck? His mom wasn’t fucking with him right now, was she? No, she wasn’t. She seemed genuinely angry and this was too convenient to be a prank. 

“We aren’t married?” He repeated. “But, like, thanks for thinking of us?” 

“You’ve been living together forever,” his mom sighed. “Come on. We’re not going to wait forever. But if you fuck this up for us we’ll kill you, you little shits. Now, why the hell are they saying you are?” 

He explained the situation in the best way he could, working his way backward and then forward again. He told her they weren’t yet sure where the picture came from and that it was literally all in the last 35 minutes. He was sure that they were going to be fine. He just wasn’t sure when. The phone call ended with his mom tutting and saying she was coming down as soon as she could find a flight and he honestly couldn’t say anything but thank you and told her to expect a confirmation email in her inbox in two minutes. 

After he got off the phone and after he set up the flight for his mom, he realized that he was standing outside of Jamie’s room. Jamie who was fast asleep and resting after being knocked _unconscious_ and that there was only a small chance that this wasn’t going to blow up in his face in the next few days. 

He exhaled and looked at the Nurse again. “What’s your name?” 

“Virginia?” she said, still a little anxious looking. 

“Okay. We aren’t allowed into that room right now. But … can you make sure NO ONE goes in, other than nurses and doctors that NEED to go in?” 

She nodded, her face shifting from anxious to annoyed. “We do actually have protocol for celebrities. This isn’t something that happens here. Ever. I don’t know who this Hannah bitch is, but her ass is mine once I figure out who it is.” 

For her small stature, Tyler had no doubt she absolutely would. 

*

They left the hospital to, thankfully, no one in the parking lot. He’d had this image in his head that there would be a swarm outside the door, some image from a bad movie where he would have to lower his (nonexistent) hat and put on glasses. 

Which, it turned out, was what he would have needed at his house. 

They drove up onto the driveway in the _gated community_ (seriously, he was calling his freaking homeowners, this wasn’t a cheap place to live) and there was a small but formidable group of guys with cameras standing outside his (thankfully also gated) driveway. He slumped down in his seat and yelled at Sharpy the code. Hoping to wait it through. 

“MR. SEGUIN, WHERE IS YOUR HUSBAND?” 

Sharpy hit the few buttons and messed up, Tyler could hear the beep of disapproval from the box. 

“HE ISN’T COMING HOME TONIGHT?!” 

Sharpy tried again. 

“WHEN DID YOU GET MARRIED?” 

“Oh fuck, Sharpy, just fucking move,” he pushed him out of the way and leaned across the man to type in the password. It clicked. He heard the flashbulbs go off as he pulled himself back in. He was shaking, he knew it, adrenaline and fear and annoyance pooling in his stomach. 

He kept it to himself, though, take that past self. 

As soon as they got passed the gates and they started to shut he found himself staring back in slight horror. They weren’t coming through. There wasn’t that many. But it was completely surreal. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he said with a knot in his throat. “What. the. Fuck?” 

Sharpy looked over at him with his crooked smile. “You are a fucking rockstar is what it is.” 

“Oh shut the hell up,” he said, but he couldn’t help but laugh and once he started, the ridiculousness was so thick he kept laughing. 

He got a smack on the back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah man, just. Fuck me,” he inhaled and exhaled and brought himself to the point where he was able to just look out the window. 

“Not my job,” Patrick teased. “But I mean it. You okay? Do you want me to come in?” 

He shook his head. He was desperate for a shower and maybe a stiff drink. He felt like he’d played a three-overtime game. “I’m good. Get back to your family, dude. Tell your girls I love them. Tell your wife I love her more.” 

“Hands off, fucker.” 

Tyler winked at him and blew a kiss. He had to keep his wits about him or he was going to go completely crazy. Just as he got to his front door his phone rang and Candace was on the line. He exhaled. That was good. Candace was good. 

*

The next morning Tyler got to the hospital at half past six, the streets dead and no one really in the lobby. He’d say it was part of his master plan but mostly he just needed to get back in proximity to Jamie as soon as possible. 

Just like he thought, it was like his whole body relaxed the moment he walked through the slightly ajar door. Not sleeping next to Jamie was something he very rarely (if ever) had to do and he’d gotten used to the rhythm of his breathing, the feel of his body heat (or lack thereof when it came to his feet). Among the millions of things on his brain, the discomfort of the big empty bed had made it almost impossible to sleep. 

He’d eventually let Marshall and Cash up on the bed, with strict instructions not to tell their other dad cause he’d kill Tyler. He was pretty sure the pups could keep up with their side of the deal. Hopefully. 

Jamie was out of the god forsaken neck brace, thank god, and his head lolled to one side. He was awake and looking out the window, and Tyler stared at him for a minute before letting himself rustle the curtain to make him aware that there was someone else in the room. 

Turning his head, Jamie flinched but his smile grew as he saw him. “Hey, it’s you.” 

“I’ve been told that before,” Tyler smiled and walked across the room to sit down on the chair beside his bed. He’d double checked the damn door was closed this time, but he looked back just one last time to make absolutely sure. 

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to probe?” 

Tyler tried to leer at him. “Well, you know how much I like probing.” 

Jamie, though, was not having it. “They told me my TV broke, they won’t let me have my phone. They won’t even let me call anyone on the house line.” 

Okay, so possibly Tyler hadn’t thought the whole lockdown through. He was maybe freaking out the night before, and though it was warranted he should have figured that Jamie would at least do some of the math, no matter how drugged up he was. 

“Tyler,” Jamie said, using his Captain’s voice. “What the ever loving fuck is going on here?” 

Tyler gritted his teeth. “So, you know how we got in here last night?” 

“You mean by the door?” Jamie said sarcastically. 

“You aren’t as cute as you think you are,” Tyler lied. He totally was as cute as he thought he was. “… I mean by telling the doctor we were married.” 

Jamie frowned at him and looked like he went to nod before he thought better of it. “Yeah… why?” 

“Someone tweeted that information out,” Tyler said in a rush, one single breath letting everything go like it might possibly soften the blow. Jamie looked confused for a second and then it all seemed to come to him in one swift motion. 

“Holy… fuck,” Jamie said. “Tyler. What the… holy fuck. How many people? How far has it gone?” 

Tyler looked away. “Freaking Perez Hilton got it first, then Puck Daddy. It was commented on ESPN but since they have no solid proof they kept it very vague. Didn’t even give our team name. Like that could stop someone from googling us in 12 seconds but whatever…” 

“What are we going to do?” Jamie blinked, and Tyler could see his heart rate increasing on the little monitor beside his bed. 

Tyler reached out and put his hand on Jamie’s chest. “Okay, first off. Breathe. Inhale and exhale. Slowly. Secondly, you aren’t doing anything in this bed but rest until they figure out exactly what they’re doing to make you better and back on ice. So just don’t. 

“Thirdly, John has gotten it taken off of Puck Daddy and is working on Perez Hilton. He’s saying the source was third hand at best and the picture was taken without our permission so…” 

“PICTURE?” Jamie broke in. Fuck. Okay, Tyler was losing boyfriend points today. 

Tyler waved a hand. “Just a picture of me holding your hand while you were resting. It was grainy, like really grainy. The person used their Twitter account and then tried to delete it but you know. Good luck with that. Either way. We’re fine, Jamie. It’s not true, there is no license and all that. No proof. So it’ll die down in the next week once someone else fucks up. I’m putting my bets on one of the Kings.” 

Jamie didn’t seem amused in the least by Tyler’s, okay, bad attempt at humor. Instead, he had a look on his face that seemed a mixture of anger and maybe constipation. He flinched again, as his jaw clenched. 

“Do you need more painkillers? Are you okay?” Tyler looked for the little red button on the side of the bed. 

“Don’t. Just. God, Tyler. We were doing really freaking well at keeping this locked down. And now? This is going to follow us. Everywhere.” 

Tyler tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth a few times before responding, because what he WANTED to say and what he SHOULD say were two completely different things. He calmed down just enough to try for a rational response. 

“I know that, Jamie. I am painfully aware of that. But I didn’t take the damn picture and I didn’t put it up on the internet so how about we stop using your Captain voice against me.” 

Jamie’s brows were furrowed and he really was wincing. “This is bad. This is so freaking bad. You can’t just expect me to think this will all go away with some suing and taking down the freaking pictures. Oh god… pictures. Tyler. What the hell?” 

Tyler scooted his chair back a few inches and took his hands off of Jamie’s bed. “PICTURE, Jamie. Singular. And again, I am just as pissed as you. Though apparently I’m not _embarrassed_ by the possibility that people might think I am with you.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Tyler,” Jamie put a hand over his face. “We had a plan, right? We weren’t going to be the first ones out. We were going to wait until after we retire. That was a plan **we** had talked about. You agreed with me. I am not pulling this out of nowhere.” 

Tyler exhaled. “No, but plans change. And we don’t even know if the plans HAVE to change. It, right now, is an unsubstantiated rumor with a sketchy at best picture. It’s not like they have pics of us in Vegas walking out of a freaking walk up wedding place. Or even bands on our damn fingers. Chill out, Benn.” 

“You out of everyone should know what rumors can do to someone, _Seguin_ ,” Jamie snapped, Tyler wanted to tell him to stop but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “Everyone is going to be watching us now. Everyone is going to be looking for one small thing to prove it. Ah, fuck. We are going to have to explain living together.” 

“We _have_. I don’t like living alone and you wanted to sell your house. We did a fucking video about it for the website. We made the guest room look like crap because apparently everyone is sure I live in a kid’s room. We won’t have to explain it again.” 

Jamie moaned. “Yeah, that’s rational. Two grown ass rich men living together cause one gets lonely. _Steers and queers_. You _said_ ‘Steers and Queers’.” 

“ _BROWNIE SENT THAT_ ,” Tyler said, and suddenly he was on his feet. “Three fucking years ago, asshole. And I’ve done everything in my power to move on from that. I was a kid, I made a mistake. You are clearly not thinking rationally, I think I need to go.” 

He forced himself to turn around, even though he had about two hundred things he wanted to say and about 15 things he wanted to _do_ at that moment. Jamie was in pain, he was being irrational, he was being childish, Tyler had to just remind himself of that for the immediate future or he could quite possibly do something stupid. Really, really, really stupid. 

He was almost at the door when he looked back. Jamie was staring at the ceiling and quite obviously ignoring him. Not so much as a goodbye. He opened the door and started towards the elevators before he walked back to the nurses’ desk. 

“Hi,” he said with his best fake flirting smile. “Room 235? He needs his pain meds.” 

The man looked down at a sheet and tilted his head. “Wow, okay. Yeah. Thanks for the note, are you…?” 

“Just a friend,” Tyler said, his fists clenching at his side. “I was going to let him rest but he is kind of a brat who won’t ask for the meds.” 

He nodded at him. “We know those types. Thanks again…” 

He had already turned and walked down the hallway, his voice following after him. 

*

10:15 _Yo, asshole, where you at?_

10:34 _No, seriously, Mom is here and she wants to see you._

11:03 _Dude, YOUR MOM IS HERE. Come to the hospital, fucknut._

Even though he’d been given the day off for “personal reasons”, Tyler showed up at the practice ice and skated hard. Partially because the burn of movement was satisfying and partially because it kept the guys from getting near enough to him to actually talk to him. 

When he didn’t leave the ice until after the other guys, no one seemed to notice. He waited a while, running himself through bag skates until he couldn’t breathe. Counting off the minutes in his head and with the occasional check of the clock above the scoreboard. When he figured everyone was gone he hobbled down the hallway and made it to the locker room on worn out legs. 

Jason was seated at his locker with his phone in his hand. He looked up at Tyler and looked back down at his phone. 

“Fucking 40 minutes extra? You better have a freaking charger in your car, douche nozzle. I just spent like 30 bucks on Candy Crush.” 

“You could have gone home, I saw your monstrosity in the parking lot,” Tyler pointed out, plopping down on the bench to unlace and pull off his skates. It felt like he’d just played three overtimes, his whole body ached. 

“Not taking two cars to the hospital, think of the environment Seggy,” Jason said. 

Tyler focused on unlacing his pads one by one, casually slipping in. “Not going back to the hospital right now.” 

“The fuck you aren’t,” Jason said, looking up from his phone and frowning. “What the hell happened? I got like ten texts from Jordie asking if I’d seen you and when I said I had he said that I was to kill you on sight. I thought we’d have to pry you out of the hospital for food and shit.” 

Down to just his body armor, he threw his stuff into the laundry bin. “Jamie doesn’t want to see me right now.” 

And honestly, he didn’t really want to see Jamie. Jamie knew his past fuck ups were something that really stung and still he’d gone for the jugular in one swift move. It was the pain talking, he knew it, but it wasn’t like it made it sting less. The fact that he said it at all meant he was thinking it on some level. 

When Tyler started his way to the showers Jason got directly in his face. “Tyler. I swear to fuck, you are going back to the hospital, and you are using your damn words here. What happened.” 

“This morning I went to the hospital to see him,” Tyler said, using overly enunciated words to be a brat. “And Jamie decided that being outed with me as a husband is worse than the accident he was in. So I don’t think he wants to see my face.” 

Jason’s face scrunched. “He’s probably just in pain dude, and it wasn’t like you reacted well to it…” 

Tyler almost decked him, his body full of the adrenaline of the ice and still burning frustration. “I’m not going.” 

“YOU. ARE. GOING.” 

He put a fisted hand out and just barely kept it away from Jason’s chest. “Don’t do this to me, not right now. I can’t handle it. He’s…” 

Jason put his hand around Tyler’s fist. “Listen up, Seguin. I don’t know what little drama you two want to play out but I know if you aren’t there Jamie is going to do his sad cow eyes and you are just going to go back to that freaky large house and drink and be stupid so you are coming with me to the hospital even if I have to stand with you in the damn showers and watch you get dressed.” 

Tyler’s face scrunched up into a ball and he could feel his emotions bottling up right under the surface. He’d never been one to show off what he was feeling before but his friends here had been the type to pull it out of him. He would, in fact, probably end up going home and drinking or worse go _out_ and go drinking. But he couldn’t shake the look on Jamie’s face out of his head. 

Still, he knew his friends game of willpower so he relaxed a little. 

“Don’t watch me shower,” Tyler said. “That usually costs you extra, you perv.” 

“Well, I got the money, honey,” Jason winked. “If you got the game.” 

He laughed, slightly, and walked forward, smacking Jason on the ass. “You ain’t got this kind of money, trust me. I know your contract.” 

*

He exited the locker room twenty minutes later, Jason at his heels and the urge to run nipping at the back of his mind like a dog. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Jamie. Well, no, that was a lie. He was a hundred percent sure he wanted to see Jamie, even if he was hurt and pissed, he always wanted to see him. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to see the way Jamie would look at him when he got there. 

But Jason was a wily one and jumped into the passenger seat before Tyler could even think to lock the car. He gave Tyler his side smile and pointed on. 

“Off to see the husband.” 

Tyler’s stomach soured. “Not funny, dude.” 

“Come on, too soon?” 

Tyler looked over at Jason and his stupid smile and his ridiculous sunglasses and thought, idly, about not telling him what happened that morning. But who the hell else was he going to tell? His mom? JAMIE’S mom? Jordie? None of them were the right ones. He exhaled. 

“Jamie doesn’t want that,” he said. “And he made that abundantly clear this morning. That people **thinking** it was about as bad as them thinking he had a micropenis or some shit.”

Jason blinked at him. “Whoa? That’s not Jamie.” 

“You weren’t there, dude.” 

He exited the parking lot and put his own sunglasses on. 

“Well, we’re going, right? You aren’t driving me to your house. I mean, freaking UBER and all that but _come on_. Just because your boyfriend is being a douche gives you no room to not visit him in the hospital. Douche be damned.” 

Tyler felt his shoulders tighten. “We’re going. But I don’t know how welcome I’ll be.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the look Jason was giving him, again, the confusion and the disbelief. There wasn’t anything to be said, he was feeling the same thing. 

In completely not typical fashion he drove the speed limit and kept himself to the right lane. He’d admit he was avoiding, completely and absolutely. He also felt his pocket blowing up to the point that at one point he handed his phone to Jason. 

“Who the fuck is trying to fry my phone?” 

Jason clicked in his password, and possibly the team was getting a little too close but that was a thought for another day. A few long moments passed where it seemed that Jason was either reading through something or just going through his shit and he wanted to punch him in the shoulder but resisted just long enough to get to the point. 

“Uh,” he paused. “It’s… Well. It’s Jordie?” 

“You sure about that Daddy?” 

Jason flicked his head to look at him, talking just above a mutter. “Apparently Jamie isn’t sure you should be seen in the room for now. There are like paps or whatever, crawling around.” 

Tyler just barely kept himself from stepping on the brakes, hard, which was good as there were cars behind him. Instead, he slowed slightly and got into the nearest parking lot. The hospital was in his sight line, large and looming and white. He could feel his chest tightening. 

“Fucking told you so,” he gritted out, breathing hard and focusing on the wheel. “I fucking told you, you douche.” 

Jason reached out hesitantly and put a hand on his shoulder. Tyler didn’t flinch out of it, though he usually would. Rather he let himself lean a little into it. This was such a fucked up moment. Fucked up day. Less than twenty-four hours beforehand he was sitting answering mundane questions about his favorite type of skate and now he was being told that his freaking boyfriend was denying him access to his _hospital room_.

He took his phone from Jason and hit a few buttons. His mom’s face popped up and he held the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” his mother’s voice sounded awkward and a little tired. 

He had to think for a moment to put together all the words in the right order. He tried to open his mouth but it seemed useless. 

“Excuse me,” she said, but it was obviously not to him. A moment later he heard a click. “Hey, Ty? Baby?” 

“Mama,” he said, and on some level, he was embarrassed because close or not… Freaking Jason was hearing him all but crying to his mom. “Is he okay?”

She sighed. “He’s fine, baby. He’s just. I think he’s overwhelmed? Or exhausted? He seems anxious.” 

“He doesn’t want me in the fu—freaking room.” 

“He’s stressed out. A so-called reporter showed up a few hours ago, masked as a freaking nurse. It was crazy. They have security on the floor.” 

This was not making him want to be there less. He _should_ be there. This was Jamie they were talking about and he was supposed to freaking be there. For better or worse, married or not. He groaned, loudly. 

“Well, I’m going to drop off Demers. Do you want me to pick you up or are you going to stay with Heather for a while longer?” 

“Tyler Paul, if you think I don’t want to see my baby right now then I obviously didn’t raise you correctly. Come around to the side, I’ll come out the stairs. How far out do you think you’ll be?” 

He looked up at the hospital and then back toward the roads. “Three minutes. Maybe less.” 

“Well, I’ll jet down those stairs,” she said, a teasing note. “Beat you there, promise.” 

He smiled, despite himself. “Mom, if you fall and break a hip, I’m going to hurt you.” 

“I’ll let the age comment pass, I promise to be careful. Only one loved one in the hospital at a time.” 

He exhaled, one loved one. Yeah. Okay. 

He pulled the car out of the spot it was in and took a turn back onto the street to get to the hospital. Jason was kind enough not to comment on the fact that he was way closer to tears than anyone should be around teammates barring some very specific circumstances. Usually, ones that ended with rings. Which this definitely didn’t qualify for. 

His mom did meet them at the side, the door still open with a rock. 

“So you don’t have to go around Demers. Think you can make it up all those stairs?” she smiled at Jason. 

“Your son is the one who made himself do bag skates even though no one had assigned them,” Jason smiled. “Thanks, though, Ms. Seguin.” 

She hit him on the shoulder. “Jackie. JACKIE. Now go. I think Jordie needs a sanity break. Mothers can be tiring, except me, right baby?” 

“Never you, mama,” Tyler said. Jason went into the stairwell, kicking the rock aside and his mom slipped into the front seat. He looked around to see if anyone was around before he planted his head in his mom’s neck and let out a suspiciously choked noise. 

She rubbed the back of his ear, a lifelong habit that was eternally calming. He breathed there for a second. Inhaled the same scent she’d worn since he could remember, and tried to just collect himself enough to be able to drive. 

“Out,” she said, after a minute. 

He pulled his head up. “What?” 

“You are letting your mother drive this monstrosity,” she said. 

Tyler didn’t know whether to stand up for his car or to point out who had been in more accidents than whom. Then again he was also realistic that his mom could still wallop him and make it hurt. He straightened up and took off his seat belt, slid out of the front seat to walk around the car and get into the passenger seat. His mother, on the other hand, had just jumped into the driver’s seat. 

He freaking loved his mom. 

He slouched down in his front seat and put his head back on the headrest. Jason might have been right about the stupidity of his actions, his body was slowly starting to transition from the rubbery feeling of after pushing yourself too hard into the sheer pain that every muscle would feel at being overused. He let his eyes close. 

“Honey, you’re going to have to actually tell me how to get to your house,” his mom gently prodded his shoulder with her forefinger. His eyes opened and he made himself straighten up. 

Home. Home would be good. 

*

His mom went into mom mode, apparently she’d gotten in earlier this morning and even though he’d told her he’d pick her up and failed she only reminded him of it once (or twice) before she insisted he sit down on the couch. She hunted through his kitchen and came out a few minutes later with two grilled cheese sandwiches, a protein shake and a plate of steamed veggies. 

She fretted around while he devoured the food, his usual post-practice hunger doubled by his lack of food that morning. When he was done she took his plate and brought it to the kitchen. He lay back on his overstuffed couch and looked up at the ceiling. 

When she came back she nudged his head and he lifted it enough for her to sit down and for him to lay his head down on her lap. 

“Okay, now is the time you tell me everything,” she said. “Cause Jamie was not making sense in the least.” 

Tyler exhaled before he told her everything that had happened in the last day. From the time, he was put into the stupid interview through the weirdness of the morning and Jordie’s texts. She gave the appropriately timed tuts and hmm like she always did and it was actually satisfying in a way, not to have someone deny what he was feeling or tell him he was misreading everything, to have someone just _listen_ to him. 

When he finished he wiped his face with both hands and groaned. 

“I just fucking wanted to see him,” he said. “I didn’t care what needed to be said for me to get back there.” 

His mother hummed and rubbed his eye again. “I get what you’re saying, baby. I also get that what happened next was completely out of your control so it’s not fair to let it hang on your shoulders.” 

“I’m not letting it hang on my shoulders,” he tried, but when even he couldn’t believe himself he wasn’t shocked by the look on his mother’s face. 

“But you’re going to have to give a little on what Jamie is feeling here. He was caught just as off-guard as you were and he is already feeling extra vulnerable. He’s in bed, he doesn’t know for how long. The doctors are being pretty closed off with info and the one small piece of safety he had was taken from him. Now he can’t even relax in the room he needs to relax in.” 

He hated how his mom had a way of making things make sense. 

“I just don’t see why that means he doesn’t want to see me.” 

She frowned. “I don’t think he doesn’t want to see you, baby. But … maybe he needs to just regain a little control.” 

“I miss him,” he said miserably. “This house feels stupid big without him.” 

“Well, I’m here now. So soon it’ll feel way too small and you will want to run away,” she teased. 

* 

He ended up taking a nap on his couch, his mom fretting around the house like she always did when she came to visit. She cleaned even places that were already clean, reorganized and did laundry, in general making such a familiar amount of white noise that Tyler found it completely easy to drift off and not wake up until his mom had to wake him up. 

“You won’t sleep tonight,” she said, like always. What she really didn’t take into account was he wasn’t going to sleep that well that night either way. He hated the vastness of the stupid bed he was in. A California King was a great idea for two hockey players, even if they generally spent the night next to each other, but when it was just him? Not so much. 

He got up and followed her lead, though, took another shower just for the hell of it. Checked his phone. Helped her fold the laundry and put it away. Checked his phone. Did a little bit of stretching to keep from his muscles tightening up. Checked his phone. 

“A watched pot,” she tutted when she caught him checking his phone for the fifth time. “He’ll call when he’s ready.” 

He grimaced. He was not a teenager, his mother shouldn’t talk to him like that. But then again he was lying on his couch with his phone in his hand and ESPN on the TV. The beer in his hand was the only thing distinguishing him from an actual 17-year-old. 

“ _Check in?_ ,” he folded and sent to Jordie because he was going to jump out of his skin if he waited much longer. 

The little (…) box popped up and kept going for a while, which Tyler didn’t know meant something good or bad. The longer it went, though, the more his fingers twitched. 

“ _Looks good. No concussion. No major internally bleeding. His neck is fucked up. He’ll be in pt for a while but should go good. Looks like release tomorrow, maybe next day. I’ll send you more when I get more. He’s a whiny bitch. Virginia thinks she might have found HandsoffHannah. Tell you if it’s true. It’s going to be sick.”_

“ _Let me know if you need help with her._ ” he sent back, a little pettily. 

“So how’s it going?” his mom interrupted gently when he tossed his cell phone between them. 

He huffed. “Looks good. He’ll be coming home tomorrow.” 

“See,” she said cheerily. “Coming home. Good enough. Then you can fret around him like a good ‘husband.’” 

“Mom,” he rolled his eyes. “It really isn’t funny.” 

She giggled. “It’s a little funny, dear. Even if he can’t see the humor now, he will soon enough. Maybe at your wedding.” 

“I told you, mom, he doesn’t want to get married. He doesn’t even want to think about it until after he retired. Because people knowing it would be the worst thing ever.” 

“You know as well as he does how hard coming out would be in this climate. ‘You Can Play’ is all well and good and I’m proud of the way it’s moved but even that Shaw kid got caught calling someone on it and it wasn’t **really** punished for it,” she tutted. “It’s just as much bullshit as anywhere else. But being the first ones would be dangerous. He’s thinking of you.” 

Which, probably, could make sense if it weren’t for the fact that he had made it clear as fuck that he didn’t care about the whole ‘first out thing’. Or at least he thought he did. He tried. He’d said it wasn’t a big deal and he’d tried his best not to let the whole thing be a _thing_. 

Outing was a huge scary thing. No fucking duh. _You Can Play_ or not, there were douche bags out there. (He thought of Boston and PK Subban and vaguely wanted to just punch a wall.) But it wasn’t like he was some freaking upstart. They both had contracts. 

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Tyler Paul,” she sighed. “You should be saying this to _him_. Unless you are berating him in your head, in which so, **stop it** and go use good words. I taught you better than being a fourteen-year-old in an adult relationship.” 

Tyler huffed. “I’ll tell him. When he gets home. He doesn’t want me at the hospital for **_my own safety_** , I won’t be there.” 

“I hear your pettiness but I’ll let you have it,” his mom nudged him with an elbow. “You never deal with emotions the way you should.” 

“Thanks?” 

“Now shut up, they’re talking about my Henrik.” 

Tyler shuttered. His mom’s crushes on players would never not be the weirdest part of playing in the NHL. EVER. 

* 

The next day he woke up early enough to get his shit together. He cleaned the house from top to bottom, his mom being mostly helpful while also commenting on the fact that he had a cleaning lady and his house was still kind of frat boyish. 

He looked up online the best positions for people to sit when they had neck injuries. He dug out the sleep pillow he’d bought on one of his million trips across the ocean to play the game. He collected about two hundred pillows from all over the house and scattered them on their couch, making a place for Jamie to rest his neck at the perfect angle. 

He also went to the grocery store, which was an adventure. They were on the cover of a newspaper in the checkout line, so about a third of the people around him actually saw through his front facing cap and sunglasses. Maybe if he didn’t wear it as often… 

Needless to say, he sped through the whole process. Finding healthy food that could be made into smoothies and shakes. Buying different types of protein, including the stupid peanut butter one that Jamie was obsessed with. Then he threw together a lot of trash because fuck it, he was rarely allowed to indulge his boyfriend and Jamie would play it off, the dude would want his stupid Cherry Garcia. 

By the time it hit noon he was feeling a lot better than he had been the night before. His mom was beaming and his stomach was literally a knot. Sure, they’d fought but it was a fight and fights happen. He got to have Jamie home today and that would mean he’d be able to actually knock a little bit of sense into the idiot.

Well gently knock some sense into him. 

He’d had a sad amount of experience with people in hospitals so he was sure that he had no chance of knowing exactly when Jamie would get out but he shot a text to Jordie either way. 

“ _What time is he breaking out? Are you dropping him off?_ ” 

When his phone rang a few seconds later he got the familiar feeling of the sudden drop of a roller coaster. 

“What?” he asked. 

Jordie grunted indistinguishably and then there was a creaking of a door. “So… uh… here’s the thing.” 

“Here’s WHAT thing?” 

“He got out an hour ago.” 

Tyler blinked, turned where he was standing and looked at his mom. “He got out? Where the hell is he? Is he waiting for me?” 

“We’re at my house.” 

There was a gap in his brain that wasn’t letting him process that sentence. The words made sense separately but together? He had nothing. “He’s at your house?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you want me to pick him up? You know you live further from the hospital than us. You PASSED our house.” 

Jordie inhaled sharply and then exhaled. “Uh, yeah. He’s staying here for a while.” 

“Fuck you,” he said, blunt and sharp and things were coming together but the edges were too fucking sharp for them to make any sense. It just hurt. “Fuck you with a fucking chainsaw.” 

“TYLER,” his mom broke in. 

He stared at his mom. “Jamie is staying at Jordie’s.” 

Her face blanched. “What?” 

“Look, Ty,” Jordie’s voice was possibly the gentlest he’d ever heard it. “He’s really sore and he’s tired and he’s not in the best place. My mom’s here… so he’s just resting here.” 

“Your mom can stay here,” he tried. “We have rooms for both of our parents. And you if you freaking want.”

There was a long pause. Long enough for him to see his mom fretting with the pillow next to her and decidedly not looking at him. He felt his heart beating against his ribcage. He just wanted to have Jamie back. 

“He’s comfy here.” 

That was fucking bullshit. That was absolute bullshit. Where the hell would he be more comfortable than his own dumb house? With his shit? 

He licked his lips. “Can I come see him?” 

“Probably not today,” Jordie answered. “There are some guys outside our house. And he’s pretty zonked. He just wants to sleep.” 

He hit the red button on his phone with zero pleasantries. His chest hurt and he was frustrated and he was tired and he just wanted to sleep too. But he wanted to sleep next to Jamie. Who quite apparently didn’t want to sleep next to him. He walked over and fell on the couch near his mom. 

“I bought the stupid peanut butter protein,” he said, nonsensically before he shoved his head into a pillow. 

*

FIVE DAYS. Five stupidly long days of going to practice and working himself to the bone, seeing Jordie and asking, fruitlessly if he was _allowed_ to visit his damn boyfriend. Jordie was trying, he knew, so he tried to keep his growing rage under control. 

He broke sticks, naturally, but usually kept it to one a day and without anyone near enough for a freak accident involving splinters. 

Each afternoon he’d go home to his mom, who was staying indefinitely apparently, and give her the look. She’d gotten good at just moving past it and not asking the glaringly obvious question. 

_Five_ days. 

Then, fucking finally, Jordie walked up to him BEFORE practice. 

“Want to come over this afternoon?” 

Tyler hugged him, even though neither one of them was wearing a shirt and it was a little against locker room rules. He squeezed him and smiled and said, “YES.” 

“Well, then,” Jordie patted his back awkwardly. “Awesome. After two? He’s got physical therapy. Mom’s driving him to and I’ll pick him up.” 

“Okay,” he was beaming, he knew it. “We’ve got… can I… should I bring something? Food. Cherry Garcia?” 

Jordie gave him a weird look. “Just come, okay? I’m sick of my brother moping.” 

* 

It was the longest practice ever. Literally, he thought the clock had broken at one point but apparently time was still moving in a straight line and eventually it was over. He showered in the locker room but threw on clothes and drove home to actually get ready. 

His mom gave him one look and smiled. “Well fucking finally.” 

He laughed and didn’t even fight it when she decided she was going with them. She wanted to see Heather, of course, and he was going to see Jamie so whatever the hell his mom wanted to do was cool with him.

*

They walked into the house and his mom saw Heather who looked a little worse for wear, but he felt that pain. His own sleep schedule had been messed up and he hadn’t even had to worry about Jamie in the house. She gave him a gentle hug and Jordie offered him a beer which he refused hands down, asking where Jamie was. 

Jordie pointed down his hallway and Tyler basically charged down the hall and moved the slightly open door more. A sudden bundle of anxiety filled him as he caught sight of Jamie and saw the sad look on his face. 

He looked pale, his head braced against the back of the chair. He turned towards Tyler and grimaced. Tyler worried if he was just grimacing in pain or at the very sight of him. He didn’t get much of a chance to wonder though as Jamie pointed at the small table beside him. 

“You want to hand me that bottle,” he asked. “Physical therapy is a bitch.” 

Tyler walked straight to the little side table beside the Lazy Boy (thank Jordie for being a dumbass with a Lazy Boy) and grabbed a small orange bottle. They’d given him the good stuff, at very least. There was Gatorade beside it. 

“You hate the orange shit,” Tyler frowned as he handed him the bright orange bottle. 

Jamie gave a weak smile as he swallowed the pill. “Yeah, you’d think my brother would remember that.” 

“I would remember that,” he muttered and Jamie either didn’t hear him or pretended pretty well. Jamie turned again and grimaced, Tyler grabbed the bottle out of his hand and placed it on the table. 

Jamie flicked him a look. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome?” Tyler said, feeling frustration begin to rise in his throat. “Why are you here, Jamie?” 

Jamie looked ahead. “I told you, we are waiting for it to die down.” 

“We aren’t freaking Brangelina, fucker,” Tyler snapped. “It died down. It barely even flared up. I haven’t had a photographer at the door in almost a week and you’ve still stayed here. This is ridiculous. Your mom must be going home soon, my mom is going home. Come **home**.” 

He wasn’t looking at him. He was deliberately not looking at him, which was getting under Tyler’s skin worse than his mom making comments about ‘giving him time’. Time was a day. Two days. This was… 

“Are you fucking breaking up with me?” 

Jamie didn’t move an inch. 

His skin felt suddenly too cold like he’d stepped out of the locker room and onto the ice. “What. The. Fuck.” 

“We got lucky this time,” Jamie said. “But we were playing it too loose. Living together? What the fuck?” 

“Jamie, half the fucking league lives together. Wilson and Latta are more married than we could ever be and they don’t even fuck. Kessel and Bozak lived together in Toronto…Unless there is some sort of gay underground that I am missing out on, which I doubt, there are a lot of STRAIGHT men living together in this league.

“Not to mention the ACTUAL gay guys who live together and no one gives a fuck. I mean, those Coyotes were literally three steps from marriage till that one dude went fucking dumb and moved.” 

Jamie’s face was stony and Tyler was actually thinking about punching it, his whole body was jittery.

“They broke up because it got too real,” Jamie said. “Oliver wanted more than Mikkel could give.” 

Tyler barely registered the names because it wasn’t the names that mattered. The rest of it was clearly not meant for Oliver nor Mikkel. He rubbed at his stubble and felt his eyes tearing up. “Please, J, you gotta be kidding me. Please.” 

“Tyler, we were just playing a waiting game.” 

“A waiting game? A 'waiting till we retired so we could get married' game,” Tyler choked out. “That’s what you fucking said when you were in the hospital.” 

Jamie looked at him, pain obviously on his face, then looked back down. “Please go?”

“I’m not going, I’m not… You can’t ask me to leave with you ending this. This is not where this is going. You’re pissed. I get it. You didn’t like getting ambushed at the hospital. But breaking up? You are taking this too far. Freaking breathe, Jamie. Think this through. Jamie, look at me.” ‘

Jamie didn’t move. “This is not going to change. I made my decision. Just fucking go.” 

Against his better judgment, he turned around and walked to the door, not looking back because he knew he’d go into full on pleading and he had to keep some pride. Instead, he gripped the edge of the door hard and then slammed the door behind him. He got maybe four steps down the hall before Jordie came running down the hall towards him. 

“Dude, what the fuck? He’s getting migraines, you can’t just…” Jordie trailed off as he looked Tyler up and down. “What…” 

“Ask your brother,” Tyler said, barely keeping his shit together. He was walking towards the front door, forgetting entirely that his mom was still in the living room. 

Heather looked him up and down and then looked at Jackie. “No.” 

“Mom, we need to go,” he said with his hands dug in his pockets and his eyes averted. He was more than aware that he was going to cry, soon, and it wasn’t going to be the normal tears he could play off as something other than what it was. He felt like a kid, two moms looking at him with pity. 

“Tyler,” his mom started, still seated. “What just…?” 

“We need to go.” 

She stopped. Heather stood up before she did. “Wait, this isn’t…” 

He finally looked up at Heather, meeting her eyes and her eyes went wet faster than his had. She stepped across the room and took him into a tight hug. It was comforting in the same way his mom was and that somehow made the whole thing worse. The tears started and he couldn’t bother feeling embarrassed yet. 

At least, somewhere in the back of his mind reminded him, Jordie wasn’t in the room. He’d gone on to see Jamie. It was enough of a peace of mind that he let his head lay on Heather’s shoulder for a second while he let out a few choking sobs. She pulled his head back and looked at him for a long moment. 

“Oh my stupid boy,” she muttered, before kissing him on the temple. “Let me talk to him?” 

He nodded his head before looking, once again, to his mom. She’d stood up and grabbed her keys. She looked at Heather exchanging some weird mom telepathy and then took Tyler by the elbow. He wasn’t quite sobbing anymore, he was proud of how he was holding back.

She led him to the car, and he was honestly a little uncomfortable with the way she just assumed she was driving. But whatever, he was in absolutely no shape to drive. 

*

Despite his insistence he was beyond fine, his mom changed her flight for an extra full week. The main problem being he still had to go through most of the normal things that were expected of him. It was getting to be the actual season, which meant that they had to decide who would take the extra A and by some freaking miracle he was given it. 

So he went to work, kicked his own ass and spent time with the other two As formulating ideas that were then passed to Jamie through Jordie, went home and was miserable on his couch with his mom for a few hours before the email came back (from Jordie) to give him notes. It felt like being a part of his parent’s divorce all over again. Only now Jordie was playing the part of him. 

He debated buying him a Gameboy, cause fuck. It hadn’t made him feel better but it made the transitions easier. 

It went like that for all the days running up to the first game. The guys, well, the guys who knew the story or at very least the basics, were treating him mostly normal. Being jackasses when necessary but then taking it back when they knew it was more than he could take. It was… nicer than he was meant to think it. 

Jamie showed up, in his tie, looking just as pale as the last time. This time, at least he could keep his head upright and his neck muscles didn’t seem to be under too much pressure. Tyler hated how much he found himself watching the muscles as he gave his usual start of the year speech, brief and quiet but the right kind of rousing. 

He could tell by the slight slur that he was still on the medication, which shouldn’t shock him but his stomach was in knots which was not how he wanted to start the season. 

The speech must have ended because there was clapping and hollering (although sedate for the usual noise level, because Jordie had made some threats that he could totally keep). The boys got up and walked by Jamie as they walked out to the ice. Sharpy pushed him forward and he had no choice but to lead it and it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to see Jamie for the first time since the breakup but apparently he had zero choices in the matter. 

Jamie gave Eakins a pat on the back and gently placed his head on his helmet saying something and then stopped to look at Tyler. He stared at him and Tyler had a thousand thoughts of what he could say, what he should say but he lost his nerve at the last moment. Jamie patted his chest right over the A. 

“Get em, Seguin,” he said and turned his eyes towards Sharpy. Tyler bit his lip and walked forward, feeling about like he was a freaking child all over again. 

* 

The game went well. Home ice, good crowd, great crowd actually. They had been claiming that the team was never going to get a good home base but fuck that, Jamie and Tyler had decided that ‘nontraditional market’ was a freaking challenge and neither of them backed down from that. They were loud and raucous and sure there were still empty seats but far less than the year before and the year before that. 

Also, they won, beating the Sharks 4-3. Which felt so freaking good he couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t superstitious (thank g-d, he’d met those nut jobs) but starting the year with a W just felt good and right. He was more than ready to keep that streak going. 

He hadn’t been able to keep himself from looking up at the box a few times, watching as Jamie kept his eyes trained on the ice. During one of the intermissions he’d come down to make some notes and though he wasn’t looking directly at Tyler, it felt good to have his input without an intermediary. 

When the game ended and he got to the locker room he was happy to see Jamie there, which was stupid as they made eye contact and he might as well have been a rookie for all the recognition he got from him. His stomach fell. And he had to do the freaking scrum.

“Tyler, how was it being on the ice for the first game without your captain?” 

“Well, it’s not ideal. Jamie isn’t just the Captain here, he’s the heartbeat of the team. His injury definitely has an effect on the mood of the team.” 

Another voice called out. “But you still won.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler bit back the urge to be snarky, picturing the look on his already frazzled manager’s face. “But that was because he was in the locker room before the game started and he was watching us as we played. We were playing for him out there. He’s still our Captain.” 

“And is he anything else?” 

Tyler gritted his teeth and he knew that at least half the guys saw it because all of the microphones made their way towards him like they were on the hunt. “He’s a great guy, a good friend and a mentor for a lot of the guys on the team.” 

“We saw he’s staying with his brother during his recovery…?” 

“Sorry, does this have ANYTHING to do with the game or are we just playing twenty questions?” Tyler snapped. 

It was like putting chum in the freaking water. The journalists moved in impossibly closer and he had to back away. He felt his skin start to itch, like the locker room itself was folding in on itself and in turn him. He didn’t quite know what to do. 

Questions were being flung at him but he didn’t hear them. 

“Back the hell up!” Came from somewhere to his left and _thank fuck_ it was Jordie who looked like his eye was about to pop a blood vessel. “What the heck guys?” 

He didn’t need Jordie fucking Benn to fight his fights for him, or he shouldn’t, but in that moment it was a very much needed life preserver. The journalists moved back slightly and then when Jordie came a little closer they moved even more. 

“I think you should either find someone else to pester or leave the locker room,” Jordie said. “I bet you Sharpy has a lot to say on this game.” 

Sharpy had done nothing of note in the game but they all seemed to know this was getting them absolutely nowhere so they slunk over to where Sharpy was putting on his best smile. (Having heard his name and put his head up like a freaking meerkat at it.) 

“Thanks, man,” Tyler whispered, as soon as the last journalist had gotten out of earshot.

Jordie leaned in. “You okay?” 

Tyler just shook his head. He was not, in fact, at all okay. But going into any depth on the matter would just be shooting himself in the foot so rather he put his towel over his shoulder and pointed towards the showers. He wasn’t letting this continue to fuck with him. There was no way this wasn’t showing up in articles tomorrow. 

“ **JORDIE BENN SAVING TYLER SEGUIN FROM TALKING ABOUT BREAK UP??** ” 

It was going to be a fuck ton of awesome, he was sure of it. John was going to call him on it and he couldn’t even say anything beyond he was sorry for stirring the pot. Really, though, he’d had an assist and a freaking sweet board against the team, why was the only thing they could come up with some bullshit about Jamie?

(He knew why. Fucking hell. Jamie was probably right, fuck. Not that that was something he would say.) 

He made it through the shower and took his time. By the time he got out the journalists were gone and it was just guys lingering to get their shit together. He worked his way to his stall and finished putting on the last of his clothing. He slung the towel over his shoulder and dug into the bottom of his bag. 

He’d thrown a shirt and a toque in there, half knowing that he would have to make a hasty exit. It had to be in there somewhere. He just wanted to get in his freaking car and get home. 

“Sorry about that.” 

He froze, his hand just finally brushing the familiar fee of his way too soft shirt. He curled his fingers around it and stood up. 

“About what?” he said, not quite meeting Jamie’s eyes. 

“You know what,” Jamie frowned. “The stupid questions.” 

Tyler took the towel off his shoulders and put the shirt on over his head. “They’re journalists. They’re looking for a good fucking story. They thought they had one. Not your fault.” 

“You’ve got a bruise on your left hip,” Jamie pointed. “You might want to grab some V…” 

Tyler frowned and grabbed his bag, fuck the stupid toque. “I’m good.” 

“Tyler?” followed him out into the hallway, where, naturally, a few more photographers and microphones milled around. As well as some fans. He smiled for the fans, ignored the photographers and tried his best to at least remember the peoples' names and faces for the thirty seconds he could give each person. He was usually better, which annoyed him. He hated that he wasn’t giving them his one hundred percent. 

* 

He got to his car fifteen minutes later to find his mom was already in it, waiting patiently and playing Candy Crush on her phone. He never ever should have taught her about that. He wondered if she was ever going to stop with it. He slid into the driver's seat and clicked his seatbelt. 

“Sorry I made you wait,” he said but she waved him off.

“Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t say hello to every single person who wanted to talk to you. Remember I’ve known you for your whole life,” she smiled at him. “You’ve been that way since you could first smile.” 

He would usually make some chirp about her being too young to know him all his life, or possibly how he was just trying to flirt from that age but he was too tired to really get into it so he just grunted. His left hip really was starting to ache. He probably should have stopped by the PTs and gotten some Coltrane but he was too stubborn to go back. Especially as it risked seeing Jamie know he was right. 

He backed out carefully, though there were only about five cars left in their parking lot. One, easily noticeable, being Jamie’s too huge truck. Tyler drove by it without looking at it. 

“Tyler,” she started slowly. “You okay?” 

“I thought I was ready to see him but I wasn’t,” he said, simply. “Not that that is going to change anything. I have to see him. All the time. For the next 9 months.” 

She exhaled. “Well, this time would be the hardest. Nowhere to go but up, I guess.” 

“I guess,” he said, trying not to sound like he was just placating her. “Next time I will just make sure to avoid talking to people about him.” 

“Oh god, Ty you didn’t,” she groaned. 

Tyler didn’t take his eyes off the road and gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could. He watched as his knuckles whitened. “It didn’t get too bad, Jordie played white knight to my damsel in distress. But we might see a word or two about it in the press.” 

He didn’t tell his mom that they pushed in towards him too close and he’d felt like a caged animal. He didn’t tell her that he’d been slightly afraid of doing something dumb like crying or scratching to get out of there. He did, actually, want her to go home sometime in the term of his contract after all. 

(Well, mostly.) 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

He flicked her a look. “Mom, I love you but you have to go home. I’m an adult, you have your own shit going on. I’m pretty sure that I can handle this on my own.” 

She hummed. “Well, if you think you can handle it…” 

“I can,” he said, this time with a little conviction. “I can be a grown up about a breakup.” 

She actually laughed. “If you figure that out, please tell me how. No one is an adult about a breakup.” 

“Jamie sure seems like it,” he muttered and instantly regretted the fact that his filter was so far from being a part of his mouth to brain circuit. 

“Is that so?” 

He cracked his neck with one hand and tried to seem nonchalant. “He just. Yeah. It was like nothing to him. He said he was sorry about the press shit and told me my hip needed pain gel. Like. What the fuck? Can’t you just ignore me when I’m miserable like a nice ex?” 

His mom put her hand up and pulled his ear. “You are a dumb bunny sometimes, baby boy.” 

“Thanks?” he looked at her and she jerked her head to the road. _Moms_. 

“He was watching you, enough to not only see the scrum attack you while he was no doubt being attacked but to send his brother in to save your honor. AND to see a bruise on your hip? He was watching when you walked out of the shower, which he was waiting for, as no doubt he had his clothes already on and I saw Jordie walk out five minutes ago.” 

Tyler frowned. They were near the exit for their— his house, thank god. He wanted to face plant on his bed and die for a few hours. And he thought he might have some Coltrane in the side drawer. Yet his mom was making a few small point that might actually make sense. Not that he needed to say it, he could feel her smugness coming off in waves. 

“Well, he still should just leave me alone,” he said. 

“Yes, that is exactly what you want,” his mom muttered. 

“Do you want a ride to the airport tomorrow?” he said but put a smile on because… well. It was his mom and he wasn’t able to get mad at her ever or stay so for longer than a minute. “Or do you want to walk?” 

She tutted. “You know I know your AMEX number, I could rent a fleet of limos and you would barely notice the change in the bill.” 

“A fleet? For what? Your shoes?” 

“Your teammates, silly, you know they all want to say goodbye to me,” she said and even out of the corner of his eyes he could hear her batting her eyelashes. 

He laughed, genuinely. “And people wonder where I get my charm.” 

“Only the ones who haven’t met me yet,” she said. “Now about that gel for your hip… You’ve shifted seven times since we left the arena.” 

He did his best not to roll his eyes. 

*

He dropped his mom off at the airport the next day on the way to morning skate. His hip was hurting like a mother fucker, the black and blue blooming across his side like a tattoo he would never get. It almost, but not quite, touched the Boston dates on his ribcage so breathing was the best thing he could do. 

He hadn’t checked anything that morning, not ready for whatever shit was coming his way. He also helpfully put his phone on airplane mode. His mom had given him a few looks, though, so he wasn’t quite dumb enough to think that it hadn’t touched the papers.

Walking into the locker made it even clearer and it was pretty much a shit show from start to finish. He found Demers seated on the left of his stall staring forward, Spezza on the right staring down at his cell phone intently. That was a good sign. He walked forward and threw his bag into the locker. 

“I need Secret Service now,” he mused. “You know, I know I’m hot shit, but if some random throws themselves at me I think I can handle it.” 

Demers tilted his head at him, like he’d heard but not tried to process it and Spezza just faked a laugh, never looking up from his phone. 

He changed into his practice gear (earning him a hiss followed by ‘fuck’ from Demers at his hip) and by the time he finished it was pretty unnerving to see the two guys still there, unmoved. They were already in their practice gear, though, so he half hoped they were just avoiding the ice. 

Which was negated as soon as he started to head for the ice and both got up and followed behind him. He deked to the left like he might go back to his locker and they paused. Then he moved forwards and they did too and he turned around. 

“Okay, what the fuck?” 

Demers did his best innocent face (which he was getting pretty good at) but Spezza looked him dead in the eye. 

“We aren’t letting you around the freaking arena by yourself. Paps are lurking dude.” 

He blinked, he’d walked in just fine. He hadn’t heard any shuttering or annoying questions. He was sure they’d have made themselves known. He said as much and Spezza arched an eyebrow. 

“Jordie and Oduya had garage duty.” 

“What. The. Fuck?” he said, his mouth going a little dry. 

Spezza looked him up and down. “You didn’t even get the fucking texts, did you?” 

He looked back at his locker where his phone was in a small locked box off to the side. Still entirely on airplane mode. He looked back and gave a tight shake of his head. “Cliffs notes it for me.” 

Demers spoke up first, scratching at his beard and looking extremely uncomfortable. “Dude, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. I mean, you didn’t want to talk about your … uh… friend being injured. Normal. But apparently your freak out was maybe mistaken and then there was a photo of Jamie staring at you while you walked out of the locker room and it maybe might have caused a fuck ton of feelings for apparently every human with emotions.” 

“So Klingberg is fine,” Spezza threw out but the joke fell completely flat. 

Tyler’s hands clasped at his sides. “Photo?” 

Spezza, who still had his freaking phone with him, looked at him for a moment before picking the phone up and scrolling through it. When he paused and lifted the phone up it was like a punch to the gut. One of the stupid photos had him walking out with his head down and in _perfect_ freaking clarity in the background was Jamie looking like Tyler had just thrown a pretty fucking epic punch to his chest. 

Tyler had seen the face before, when he’d heard about his Nana having a minor stroke. when he’d seen Tyler’s ankle after the ACL issue, when they’d lost getting into the postseason just barely… it was devastation. Plain and simple, a pure pain that hit him. And it was because Tyler was walking away. 

He didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to say about the picture but his mouth opened. “Where is he?”

“Tyler,” Spezza brought the phone down. 

“WHERE IS HE?” Tyler screamed and the whole locker room echoed it back at him. “I know he’s here. He’s too much of a masochist to stay away.” 

Demers looked at Spezza and then back at Tyler. “He’s with the managers’ talking about damage control. I think.” 

He started walking and they followed behind him, but he turned around and leveled them with his best glare. The one he’d learned from his mom, who’d learned it from her mom and his grandma could melt ice caps with hers. It almost panned out, just this once, for him as they both stopped in their tracks for a moment before Spezza shook his head. 

“We’re going. Deal with it,” he stared back at him. “You didn’t see Jamie this morning. I’d rather deal with your wrath than his.” 

Tyler felt his jaw tighten and had to force himself to loosen it up before he conceded. “Fucking fine, whatever. I don’t care.” 

He stormed into the hallway and away from the ice. He’d had to have the ‘talks’ with management enough that he knew basically where they would be. Where the ‘war rooms’ were, or whatever. He stomped down, the plastic covering his blades making loud clunking noises on the ground. He knew he’d have to sharpen them again before he got on the ice but very little made him care at that moment. 

The first room was empty except for a board with one of the stupidest plays he’d ever seen on it so he was really hoping a rookie had been fucking around with. The second had four stunned trainers looking out at him like he was on fire. The third he hit the jackpot. 

Jamie sat at one chair and Lindy was at the front of the room. Jamie swiveled in the chair and caught sight of him and looked a little sick. 

“Out,” Tyler said, surprised with how angry his voice was. From behind him he heard Spezza make a noise the was mostly shock. 

“Dude, _Ruff_ ,” he said under his breath. Tyler knew he should care. He kept telling himself so. 

Lindy arched an eyebrow at him and he relented a little. “Can I please have the room with the dumb ass Captain? I assure you it will solve at least thirty-three percent of the problems I assume you are having. … Please.” 

Lindy’s shoulders relaxed and he looked at the other people in the room and pointed at the door. “You heard Mr. Seguin. Get moving.” 

A half dozen people got up from their seats and walked towards the door, giving varying degrees of ‘Good luck’s and annoyed glares. He got the feeling that even more than usual he’d been giving the team’s management ulcers. This was only enforced by Lindy stopping at his side and putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard. 

“Whatever the fuck is going on, stop it,” Lindy said, close to his ear. “Be easy on him, he knows he’s the dumb one this time.” 

Which was… well. Frankly insulting and kind of awesome at the same time. He nodded and Lindy walked out the door, taking Spezza and Demers with him. The door closed with a loud smack, meaning that Lindy really was annoyed as hell. 

Just like that, the two of them were alone. In a room. With a giant sign that had the white board with the words, ‘Problem solving’ written and underlined three times. There was nothing under it, which he hoped meant that they had just started rather than a room of eight adults had no idea how to deal with a freaking break up. Or whatever this was. 

Taking one look at him, Tyler realized that Jamie seemed exhausted. A small part of him thought he should be more satisfied that it had affected him the way it had Tyler. He had spent so much time thinking that maybe they were on completely different pages in everything and yet he was getting the distinct feeling he was wrong. 

“Tyler, I swear I didn’t see the camera,” Jamie said, breaking the silence. 

Tyler laughed, loud and brash and it echoed in the room making Jamie wince. “Why the fuck do I care if you missed a fucking camera you DUMB DUMB FUCK?” 

“That was a record for your cursing,” Jamie mused slightly. “That’s what got us back in the news. It was just dying down and I had to get caught with that look…” 

Okay. So they weren’t on the same page, as apparently Jamie had a different playbook and was reading it in a language no one understood. 

“I _like_ that stupid photo,” he said, even though he’d only really seen it once and it was on a tiny screen. “Hell, I’m gonna make it my background as soon as I can.” 

Jamie’s face twisted. “Why the hell would you do that?” 

“Because up until about an hour ago I’ve been pretty sure you were in a totally different place than me. A happy place. Which you haven’t, have you?” 

Jamie looked away from him and down at a piece of paper in front of him. “Tyler, we talked about this.” 

“Fuck you, we didn’t talk about anything,” he snapped. “YOU talked about a lot of stuff. Including not wanting to be outed with the likes of me and fucking moving out of our house to live with your freaking BROTHER who can’t take care of himself let alone a guy who needs physical therapy.” 

He got a slight glare out of Jamie. “Jordie can take care of me, you know, he took care of me for a long time before you.” 

Tyler wanted to respond with a lot of bratty comments that would consist of things that he would regret later. But that had been the M.O. for the last few weeks and look where it had gotten them so he took a deep breath. 

“But he doesn’t have to anymore. Because I’m here. And you miss me.” 

“Of course I miss you!” Jamie snapped and Tyler felt like a weight was off his shoulder that he hadn’t even been fully aware of. 

“G-d fucking damn it, you fucking dumb fucking…” Tyler put both hands on his face and rubbed at it, feeling the coarseness of his overgrown beard. The dampness around his eyes. The stupid smile that was taking over half his face. He laughed again, relief seeping out. 

He put his hands down to see Jamie giving him the, ‘What the fuck have you been smoking?’ face that he’d gotten often in their relationship. He walked over to Jamie’s seat and hopped up on the table to press a kiss to Jamie’s face. His nose and then his lips and then his stupid perfect cheeks. 

“What the fuck were you doing leaving me if you missed me?” 

Jamie looked down at Tyler’s chest and then leaned his head against it. He said something but Tyler couldn’t hear him at first so he pulled Jamie’s head back. 

“I thought it would be better for you if we… weren’t.” 

“I swear to you if you weren’t still in physical therapy I would hit you so hard right now,” Tyler stated. “But please, feel free to explain to me how being miserable as fuck has been so helpful to me.” 

Jamie’s jaw tightened and a muscle popped out at the side. “You came here for a fresh start. You made some mistakes but you have worked hard to keep your image clean and your nose to the grindstone. Being ‘Tyler the outed’ would take you back. I am not going to be the one to do that to you.” 

Tyler’s grip on the table tightened for a moment, he felt the cheap wood make the distinct sound of crunching. He relaxed though, by thinking that this was some messed up version of chivalry and not an attack on his honor. 

“You really think that I couldn’t make that decision on my own?” Tyler asked in a measured tone. “That I would spend this whole time thinking you were doing this because you hated the idea of being outed WITH me and that would make me a better person? Fuck, the Tyler who got here would have been out every night banging whoever showed even the slightest interest. 

“Which,” he pointed out when Jamie looked at him pained. “I _didn’t_. I was home each night at an embarrassingly early time and in pjs sulking with my fucking mom like a _teenager_ , Jamie.”

Jamie gave him a constipated look and his eyes were so wide it was something Tyler would tease him for in any other moment. “I want what’s best for you.” 

Tyler leaned down and lifted Jamie’s face gently to kiss him, because it was honestly the easier of the options in his head. He would go into all the ways that was a stupid sentence, how the martyred look wasn’t one he ever needed on Jamie’s face again (but he knew he’d see it about a thousand times again in their career and life), how in the long run they were going to have to work on communication. 

“You, you stupid stupid fuck nut, are what is best for me,” he exhaled against his lips, his eyes opened. Jamie opened his eyes a moment later and looked … surprised? Pleased? Everything all at once. 

They’d have to work on that, too.

But for that moment, he just kissed him again. 

*

**Tyler Seguin: Out Magazine November**

_So you and Jamie decided to come out after your injury. Was fear a factor that played into this?_

‘Decided’ is a pretty loose term. We didn’t have much in the matter of choices. Even though it played out well enough we were kind of pulled out. And then it came to a point where it was either come out or lie, we decided lying wasn’t a choice.

_Any why not?_

Cause it would make it seem wrong or bad or some [crap]. That’s not what this is. We are together. There is nothing wrong about it, except that it had to be made an issue.

_Speaking of which, they’ve found the owner of the account that took the picture. What’s happening there?_

You’d have to ask the lawyers about that. Look, do we want to ruin this kid’s life for taking a picture of us? No. Do we think it was a dick move? Yes. We were in a hospital. Anything could have been happening and instead of leaving us to heal a 19-year-old girl visiting her grandma got a shot that ended up making our lives hard for a while. 

_How has the response been from your team, friends, and family?_

Well, _(laughs)_ other than my mom trying to find a place to book a summer wedding, nothing so far. Everyone we love knew. 

_Any changes between you and Jamie? Any chance of that summer wedding?_

_(He blushes and stutters for a moment.)_

Well, the wedding is something that is up in the air. But for now? _(He looks behind me.)_ He’s coming to all interviews with me, forever. 

_(Jamie Benn, who is indeed seated on a chair nearby, laughs)_

Shut up Benn, we need you in one piece to make it to the playoffs and, obviously, I can’t trust you on the ice on your own.


	2. Epilogue

For the first time in probably two weeks Hannah found herself with extra time in the morning. She wasn’t exactly what most would put as a morning person, in any sense of the word, but the last few months had been long and she’d kind of had to train herself into getting up as early as possible to get to work. 

She had more than enough time, in fact, to indulge herself in her favorite little coffee place near downtown. The one she usually had to drive past and look longingly at while she was desperately trying to make it to work. She might even get something to eat. 

It was a good day. 

She eased her car in the parking spot next to a truly horrendous truck, one that she had to back up and retry to park three times to fit her tiny Ford Focus beside. She would make a comment on the size of the guy’s member or lack thereof, but she was a lady. (Dammit.) 

Also, it had a Stars sticker on the back so the guy couldn’t be _that_ bad. 

There was a slight line, not shocking. The coffee really was amazing there and the ambiance was quiet without being over the top and had yet to be taken over by any number of annoying new or non locals. She stood and looked at big board, thinking maybe she wouldn’t go with her usual stuff. 

This is usually would have been where she’d stare at her phone and go through her Social Media (like every single other person in line) but she’d backed away from it since… well. Since ‘The Incident’. She kind of liked the idea of thinking it in capital letters as it detached the absolute horror that filled her body when she thought of it as a real thing. 

The line moved. She moved with it, trying her best to put together an order that was not just large Americano with an extra shot. She needed _some_ spice in her life. Plus this place was known for tons of things, including things that weren’t straight up caffeine and water. 

“I swear it’s them,” the lady in front of her said to the guy standing next to her. “He’s even wearing the hat, Jake.” 

Jake, it seemed, was less than impressed. “If you didn’t want people to recognize you why would you wear your team hat to a coffee shop a few miles from your arena?” 

Hannah’s ears perked up. They were near the AAC, which player were they talking about? She looked around the sitting area and her eyes centered in on a table in the corner. Her brain processed who it was just about the same time the couple ahead of her moved up and the guy behind her nudged to go forward. 

Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin. 

It had been two months since … well. The Incident. She’d had a lot of time to process what happened and still felt like a complete idiot about it. 

There had been a lot of talk about taking her to court, about invasion of privacy and lawsuits and things that her meager lifestyle was not able to accommodate but in the end they never went through with any of them. She’d heard through their manager that they were just going to let it lie. That it wasn’t a big deal and that she should just think twice before posting things. (Which she had completely. She changed her handle AND still deleted her twitter app on the phone.) 

They’d come out less than a month ago, in a really tasteful article in Out that had been so sweet and perfect that she hadn’t actually read but had parts read to her. (Her best friend had found the spot where Tyler had said that they didn’t wish ill will on her. She might have cried.) 

A part of her wanted to just get out of line and run. She knew, rationally, they had no idea what she looked like. She hadn’t had her face as her twitter pic in years and she doubted even if she HAD they’d recognize her. But a bigger part of her wanted to walk over and ask forgiveness, a chance she hadn’t had in the middle of the thousand people tweeting death threats and the stupid interviews she refused to give. 

She’d been at the hospital for eighteen hours by the time she’d seen Tyler Seguin walk through the hallway with Jordie Benn. She’d heard rumblings that Jamie Benn was there, through nurses. They didn’t seem to see her most of the time, she’d been there so much she’d become invisible. 

When she heard the word ‘husband’ her heart had beat against her rib cage like a puck against the rink. She’d been so happy for the two of them she thought she might cry, and she was running on little to no sleep so she really was that close to doing so. She walked over to see Tyler and Jamie and… well. The rest was history. 

She shouldn’t have taken the picture. She really shouldn’t have tweeted the stupid picture. If she had been a little less stupid she might have just tweeted it without the stupid caption as you’d have to KNOW who they were to recognize them, it wasn’t like her phone and telephoto capabilities. 

Not that she felt like any of that was useful in the wake of what happened. In the fact that one of her maybe fifty followers found a way to tweet it to the entire freaking WORLD in the span of a half an hour. She tried taking it down but … yeah. The internet was forever. 

And she had taken a bit of their privacy away. ..

“Excuse me, can I help you ma’am?” 

She’d gotten to the front of the line, somehow. She blinked at the girl behind the counter, one she didn’t recognize (it had been a while) and bit her lip. 

“Large Americano, extra shot?” 

Well, there went her idea of living dangerously. She paid and gave her name and went to wait with the rest of the morning crowd. It put her much closer to them and the closer she got the more she couldn’t help but stare. 

Jamie was the one wearing the hat, a large white star with the green lining. It was cute, actually, how he had it ducked down low. Tyler was staring at Jamie kind of like he hung the moon and stars and Jamie didn’t seem to notice it. One of them must have said something funny, as they both were leant towards each other laughing. 

She wondered if the couple realized it was them yet, but when she looked they weren’t even looking in that direction. How they could not hear the braying laugh of Jamie Benn and _not_ know who it was was completely beyond her. 

By the time she looked back Tyler was saying something else and Jamie was blushing and looking back and maybe he DID get that Tyler looked at him like he hung the moon cause he looked at him like he made the sun. It was painfully sweet. She tried not to look, but she couldn’t. 

She was going to brave it and go over. She was going to do it. It would give her the final peace that she needed, knowing they knew that she regretted it. That she was sorry. 

But her feet wouldn't quite move. And her hands kept balling up and releasing. She felt like she was intruding by just looking, like she was taking their photo all over again. She nibbled on her lower lip and putting her hands in her pocket. 

They looked happy and silly and in love. 

(And Jamie was looking a lot better… he should start back soon… wait that was besides the point. )

Would going over really be helpful? She thought, selfishly, it might. But realistically no. Realistically it would probably bring up things that they didn’t want to think about. It would wipe the happiness off their face. 

…

“Hannah?” 

She turned to the counter and grabbed her cup. 

With one quick look back to where Tyler was taking Jamie’s hat off his head, she turned towards the door. 

She had her peace. 

And her Americano.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Yeah. This started as a ficlet for a line that never even made it in the actual fic. All 15k+ of it. 
> 
> But it was one of those pieces that I started and couldn't stop. And I hope you like it. As always, I have to thank sly_fck, optimusfine and specifically freetodream5 and LuciFern for reading it and picking away all the crap and really really truly random sentences in this fic. (Seriously. It wasn't English at one point.) 
> 
> Also, the epilogue is ALL my love, so thank you soco for giving me an idea and the name of your high school ska band to use. <3 
> 
> Anyone who knows what HandsOffHannah means earns my eternal love. <3 
> 
> (Title is from Sugar by Maroon 5)


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